


of stone

by mythologies



Category: Greek Mythology
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Rape, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5085907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythologies/pseuds/mythologies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually when people say monster they really mean power. Usually a monster is someone who can't be defeated, someone who's never known the feeling of a hard floor beneath their knees. </p>
<p>          Medusa admires those people. People who will never duck their head, hide their tears, people who won't think twice before drawing their sword. No matter how many times people tell her she's beautiful, she never feels grateful for it. It's only brought unwanted attention – men on the street, men in the market, men everywhere thinking they're entitled to her beauty, like it exists just to please them.</p>
<p>(In which Athena turns Medusa into a monster by her own request.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of stone

Usually when people say _monster_ they really mean power, strength. Usually a monster is someone who can't be defeated, someone who's never known the feeling of a hard floor beneath their knees.

Medusa admires those people. People who will never duck their head, hide their tears, people who won't think twice before drawing their sword. No matter how many times people tell her she's beautiful, she never feels grateful for it. It's only brought unwanted attention – men on the street, men in the market, men everywhere thinking they're entitled to her beauty, like it exists just to please them.

Her sisters too, though not as beautiful as she; Medusa wants to protect them, but usually it's the other way around. Stheno is stronger than she is, fiercer; she bares her teeth at men, walks among them freely, unafraid; if she is a monster it is because she wants to be. And Euryale, also older than Medusa, softer than Stheno but in no way weak.

(Among them only Medusa holds her death inside.)

“You need to be harder,” Stheno says to her sometimes, after a hard day, whenever Medusa feels as though she's on the verge of tears, when she wants to don a veil to hide her face from the world. “The only person who will protect you is yourself. We won't always be there when you need us.” Her face is gentle despite this, one hand lifting to fold over Medusa's shoulder like a bandage, and they both know it's a lie.

So Medusa swallows her tears, lifts her lips in a pitiful imitation of Stheno's snarl. Her sister laughs.

-

Both of her sisters prefer the goddess Artemis, probably because of her wildness, the rumors they hear of her. Euryale often goes home secretly with women who she thinks resemble the goddess, tall women with wild hair and sharp smiles. Stheno too prefers those types, though it's difficult to find anyone taller than her, man or woman.

Medusa likes Athena more; that kind of controlled rage, like the air just before the sound of blood rings out, like she's always on the verge of battle. Artemis is more loose, she doesn't try to hide her fury; Stheno is just like that. Maybe that's why she never felt that Artemis was superior, because she's comfortable with someone so similar to her.

Athena, Athena, with her grey eyes, (like a stormy sea like the sky before lightning hits like the aftermath of a hurricane oh) her powerful way of speaking, her shoulders – what Medusa likes most though is the way she rejects men, the way she chooses women but calls it chastity. Artemis does the same, she knows; once had a man eaten by his own dogs for looking upon her as she bathed. It is so hard for Medusa to think of doing such violence, no matter how much she would like to.

-

“Are you going to the temple today?” Euryale asks, brow furrowed in concentration as she polishes one of Stheno's swords. (She hardly ever gets to use them, complains of it often, though she always makes sure they're polished, gleaming, reflecting light like a holy sword should.)

“Probably,” Medusa says, sitting behind her sister and leaning forward to rest her chin on Euryale's shoulder. Her sister tilts the sword so they can see their reflections. Medusa looks at her sister's face and ignores her own, distorted in the sword's silver.

“Want us to go with you? Stheno wanted to visit Artemis' temple today but I could come with you instead, if you're nervous--”

“No, I'll be fine,” Medusa says too quickly. Euryale sighs. “After all there shouldn't be too many people there, isn't some festival going on?”

“That was last week. It really wouldn't bother me to go with you, I've been meaning to for a while now.” Euryale turns her head slightly to look at Medusa, whose mouth is a hard grim line.

She sighs again, and presses a soft kiss to Medusa's forehead.

-

She was right, the temple is nearly empty now. Medusa pauses for a moment just to inhale deeply, letting the feeling of safety seep into her bones before stepping further inside. It's darker than outside, and the more she walks the harder it is to see anything.

Behind her the door falls shut.

-

After she will think the smell of salt should have tipped her off. So many women have talked about this scent, about the energy that fills the air when he's in a room, like the sea itself is trying to tear the walls down. Some of them say it angrily, some in admiration, but most in fear.

The fear drives everything else away.

-

Darkness, darkness, darkness.

Medusa was never a very good swimmer.

He seems to know this.

-

He leaves her crumpled on the floor, statues broken, water everywhere. She fought, fought as hard as she could, but her strength was nothing compared to his. How could she defend against a god?

A dim light flickers in the center of the room. She blinks at it wearily, watching it grow bigger and bigger. The fear that should have risen doesn't, her face blank. She feels like he took everything with him.

When the light fades a woman is in its place.

Medusa recognizes Athena immediately, even though she looks nothing like the rumors say. Taller than Artemis after all, dark skin and hair, hard muscles; the only thing that remains true to tale is her eyes. Grey, they seem to flash at her, though Medusa can't tell if she came seeking blood or not.

Athena steps toward her, her footfalls heavy in the silence; Medusa expects the bite of a blade, surprised when instead Athena draws her into her arms. A hand smooths down her hair, cradles her body protectively.

“Where were you?” Medusa whispers, the tears finally falling. Athena wipes them away, her own eyes suspiciously damp.

Athena only shakes her head. This close, Medusa can see signs of battle on her skin, realizing that Athena fought her way into her own temple, just a little too late. She clutches Athena tighter.

“I wish I was a monster.” Medusa sits up shakily, supporting herself with her palms flat on the floor. “I wish I was horrifying. I wish he would have run from me in fear.” A hand reaches up to her own hair, clutching at it; she wants to tug it out, rend her clothes, howl in pain; she wants vengeance, she wants blood.

“If that's what you want, I can help you.” Athena kneels in front of her, one finger lifting her chin. The softness in her eyes breaks Medusa's heart.

She ducks her head, resisting the urge to shake it until it's empty. “Please,” she whispers. Medusa wants desperately to have the violence inside her bones. She feels more than hears Athena stand, a strong arm wrapping around her waist to lift her to her feet as well.

“If I do this, I cannot undo it. If you have male friends or family you will have to leave them. Only women will be immune to you.”

“What use have I for a man?”

Athena finally smiles, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. When she pulls back, Medusa's face begins to change horribly. She strokes a hand through her hair, turning it to snakes, turning what had previously been beautiful into a deadly weapon.

“What use is a man indeed,” Athena says, pulling Medusa into the comfort of her embrace.

-

Her sisters move her to a cave in the mountains, far from the sea. They come with her, with swords and food and blankets. Medusa takes to wearing glasses, feeding food to her snakes, walking through the forest alone, finally unafraid.

Stheno at first wanted to hunt Poseidon down and avenge her, but Medusa lifted a palm, smiling a secret smile for herself alone. “That's being taken care of,” she said, giving no details. Her sisters continue to talk about it after that until Medusa's snakes rear up, angry, though her face doesn't betray her emotions.

(She used to be an open book. Now she's as stone as the men she encounters on the mountain.)

-

Sometimes at night when she can't sleep, she goes to the very top of the mountain and waits patiently until light flashes, until arms wrap around her, until she falls asleep.

Those nights, her dreams are filled with darkness, the comforting kind.

-

One night Athena comes to her unbidden, dressed in a black cloak, a hood hiding her face; Medusa recognizes her all the same.

“I found him,” she says simply. After a pause, Medusa stands.

“What happened?”

The smile that lifts Athena's lips is cruel.

“He will never harm another the way he harmed you.”

Medusa's smile is an echo of Athena's, and it doesn't fade until she steps forward to press her lips against Athena's, limbs loose and grateful.

“ _Thank_ _you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can't tell me athena didn't hunt down poseidon to protect all the women he hurt.


End file.
